Though they were his enemies, Faen couldn't help but admire their fearlessness.
If the Ionians had half... no, a third or even a quarter of the Noxians' fighting spirit, Noxus would never have seized so much land in the early stages of the war.
But then again, that wasn't a fair comparison.
The Noxians before him were the elite of the elite—Swain's ultimate personal guard.
Forget Ionia; in terms of combat will, there were likely few in all of Runeterra who could stand on equal footing with them.
It was a pity, however, that this was not a mundane world where numbers and individual discipline could overwhelm a singular power.
This was a world saturated with magic, born from the World Runes, where mana resided in everyone to varying degrees of perception.
In such a world, an ordinary Master might need to dodge and weave to find an opening against such a legion.
But for Faen...
"This is perfect. It saves me the trouble of hunting you down one by one."
Faen spoke calmly, his eyes flickering with an undisguised, chilling light.
Admiration was one thing, but he had no intention of letting them leave alive.
Fae'lor was vital to Ionia's future. Even if Faen needed the Ionians to realize that resistance held positive value, throwing them against these battle-hardened veterans immediately would be far too high-pressure.
As Faen spoke, the Noxians—having witnessed his horrific destructive power and the protective mist that stole weapons—quickly regained their composure.
At the signal of several short whistles from an officer, the once-scattered Noxians stabilized into an orderly formation.
While maintaining order, the shield-bearers who had hesitated after seeing their comrade's death stopped in their tracks.
They planted their greatshields firmly in front of them, watching Faen for any sudden movement.
Behind the shields, spears bristled through the gaps.
And further back stood a phalanx of crossbowmen.
At the officer's command, the air was suddenly filled with the shush-shush-shush of bolts.
Crossbows fired level while longbows loosed high-arcing volleys.
A dense cloud of arrows blanketed the sky, hurtling toward Faen.
Even in the dead of night, Faen could see the rain of steel gleaming like falling stars under the bright moonlight.
Trying to drain my mana with a barrage?
Recognizing their tactic instantly, Faen nodded inwardly.
As expected of elites.
After just two brief exchanges, they had formulated a correct counter-strategy.
For any magical warrior or mage, defending against heavy bows and crossbows is no easy feat.
Especially against such a wide-scale volley; to avoid injury, one must release massive amounts of mana to solidify their defenses.
The consumption in this process was several times higher than in normal combat.
Even if the Masters of the Temple were here, they could hold for ten minutes at most.
Once that time passed, even if they were still standing, a single brave soul could seize the opening of mana exhaustion to cut them down.
Unfortunately for them, the concept of "mana exhaustion" did not exist for Faen.
He flipped his wrist, summoning a curtain of water.
In the sight of the Noxians, the entire sky full of arrows froze the moment they entered the water barrier.
Immediately, each arrow was wrapped in high-speed swirling water, shaped into a drill.
Under the terrified gazes of the soldiers, the arrows spun and shot back at an even higher velocity.
The sharp, cold tips—boosted by the water—pierced straight through shields.
Flesh met steel. The crisp sound of arrowheads shattering armor was like hail smashing through glazed tiles, followed by the dull, wet sound of impalement.
Gallop! Gallop! Gallop!
Several cavalrymen spurred their horses through the mist from the flank.
Despite their heavy plate armor, the warhorses were incredibly fast.
Through the gaps in their barding, hard scales were visible on their limbs and torsos.
Their glowing red eyes silently proved that these seemingly normal mounts were the crossbred offspring of magical beasts.
Their strength and speed far exceeded that of any common beast of burden.
But at that moment, the charging hybrid horses let out panicked cries.
The once-solid earth turned into a swamp of thick mud in an instant.
The warhorses' powerful limbs could find no purchase.
Forget reaching Faen; even these experienced riders could barely maintain their balance.
Most of them simply collapsed as their horses tripped in the mire, becoming obstacles that tripped their comrades behind them.
They were trampled and crushed to death by their own brothers-in-arms.
Immediately after, thin blades of water flew out from the mud.
With a series of blue-green flashes, horse legs were sliced clean off.
Simultaneously, several swirling Spirit Blades of flowing water whistled out from Faen's hands.
Under the moonlight, the crystal-clear water blades reflected spinning glints of light.
In a few blurred seconds, they glided effortlessly across the throats of the soldiers trapped in the mud.
A trail of delicate blood droplets slid from their necks as the blades returned to orbit Faen.
Circling him, the transparent blades looked like exquisite works of art floating behind his back.
They arranged themselves into the shape of a delicate Blade Lotus, flickering between blooming and closing.
Faced with this absolute disparity in power, even the most fearless men had to realize how terrifying the gap in strength truly was.
They watched their comrades have their throats slit in seconds without even being able to get close.
The soldiers gripped their spears so hard their nails dug into their own palms, yet they didn't dare let out a single whimper.
Their pupils were like butterflies pinned to a board—motionless—while the trembling of their eyes reflected the raw terror in their hearts.
"For Ionia's sake, you are all far too dangerous."
Faen beckoned, and the Blade Lotus petals flew out one by one from behind him.
It started as one flower, but the petals seemed inexhaustible, constantly regenerating under Faen's control.
In an instant, they transformed into a ferocious Blade Dragon, twisting and rolling under the moonlight.
It reflected countless rays of despair-inducing cold light.
"So, even if you surrender, I cannot let you leave."